


Untold

by sydbee53



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Child Loss, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kidnapping, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Romance, Slow Burn, future smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydbee53/pseuds/sydbee53
Summary: When Gryffin Trevelyan showed up at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she certainly didn't expect things to turn out like this. Now, having been strong-armed into joining the Inquisition, she struggles to find her place within the organization. On top of everything, she quickly realizes the Inquisition has no idea of her true identity or intentions at the Conclave. Gryffin finds herself struggling under the weight of her own secrets and the Inquisition's expectations of the Herald of Andraste.
Relationships: Blackwall/Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is Chapter 1 of what will very likely be a pretty long fic. This is my first time posting to AO3, and I'm pretty proud of this work. Please feel free to comment and let me know if I missed any important tags as the chapters continue. The story begins seeming like a traditional re-telling of Inquisition events, but as we move forward will feature quite a bit of canon-bending and different events as we learn more about our characters. 
> 
> Enjoy the story of Gryffin Trevelyan!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kept my gaze trained forward, eyes narrowed, not bothering to conceal the anger in my voice. "We're not friends. Stick with Lady Trevelyan. Or better yet, don't speak to me at all." I stomped out of the Chantry, fuming, pulling my hood up around my face to hide my infuriated expression.

_ Where did I go wrong? _

_ How did everything end up like this? _

_ I never meant for everything to go so astray. For my lies to spin out of control like this... It was just supposed to be one or two white lies. To stay safe. To get through everything alive. To find my daughter. I wasn't supposed to make friends, to help save Thedas, to fall in love... _

_ Maker, why did I let myself fall in love? I knew better. I _ know _ better. I know what happens to the people I love most. Violet, Noah, Catelina, Seren... I hurt everything I touch. _

_ And so I ran. Away from everyone. I just wanted them to understand. I'm not the Herald of Andraste. I'm no one's savior. How could I be when I could barely save myself? _

_ And still. _

_ Still, sitting here alone, in the run-down cabin I had hoped I would never return to, I find myself wondering if I did the right thing, if I made the right choice. _

_ I know I'm hurting them by leaving like this. But they have to understand this is better than the alternative.  _

_ It wasn't supposed to be like this… _

#

**_Haven Inquisition Camp, by the Stables_ **

"Maker, look at it." Blackwall stared up at the Breach, a pensive look on his face.

I glanced up at the Breach with him, a sight I generally tried to ignore despite the fact that it took up half of the sky. I leaned against the stable fences next to him as he continued. "It's so much easier to ignore when it's far away." He glanced over at me. "And to actually walk out of it... to be that close..."

I shrugged. "I was lucky." I knew I was downplaying it, but I didn't know how else to respond. "If I hadn't been saved by Inquisition soldiers, I don't know what would have happened."

"Inquisition soldiers?" Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I've heard."

I shifted my gaze to him. "Then what exactly  _ have  _ you heard?" Suspicion crept into my voice in spite of my best efforts.

"Not much, admittedly," he assured me, sensing the change in my tone. "Only what I've heard here in Haven."

"I wouldn't put much stock in what the people of Haven say," I grumbled, looking back up at the sky.

"I've mostly heard things from Leliana,” he clarified. “She gave me a bit of background during her... rather intense line of questioning." He looked back up at the sky as well, changing the subject. "The Breach, the Divine's death, the Wardens... it doesn't make sense. There's so much we don't know."

I gave a slight nod of agreement.  _ So much _ , I thought to myself. "Well, I just wanted to see how you were settling in," I explained, straightening up and turning to leave.

"I have a question for you, Lady Trevelyan."

I paused, turning back to face Blackwall. "Yes?" My voice was laced with uncertainty, not sure I wanted to hear it.

"How do you think you fit in with all of this?"

I blinked a couple of times, pondering his question. He was the first person to ask me that, instead of just assuming I understood my role. Assuming I had embraced being the so-called  _ Herald of Andraste _ . "I... don't know," I admitted softly, looking at the ground. "It's been a whirlwind. It's hard to say exactly where I fit into all of this."

"I guess we'll have to figure that out," Blackwall responded, a light smile on his face. "For me, I'll be satisfied as long as we find the bastards who killed the Divine. They owe us some answers."

I felt a bit disappointed at his answer, but tried to keep my face neutral. Did that mean Blackwall was Andrastian? Or was it just his sense of duty, of wanting to clear the Grey Warden name?

_ It doesn't matter, _ I reminded myself.  _ Just about everyone here is Andrastian. They don't give a shit about your beliefs, as long as you keep your mouth shut and help close the Breach _ . "Well, I'm grateful to have you as part of the Inquisition, Warden Blackwall.” I bowed my head slightly, saying, "I'll let you return to your duties."

I turned, beginning to walk away. Before I was out of earshot, he called, "Should you require anything else, you know where to find me." Something about the way he said it... I felt a blush spread across my cheeks as I kept walking, pulling my cloak tightly around myself.  _ No time for this nonsense _ , I told myself firmly as I re-entered Haven's walls. I needed to get to the Chantry to meet with Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine. The Seeker had been harassing me since yesterday to meet so they could make a decision about the mages and templars. After our trip to Val Royeaux, there was a lot to consider.

I stifled a groan as I took off toward the Chantry, trying to mentally prepare myself for what would inevitably be a long morning.

#

**_Haven Chantry, War Room_ **

_ "I must ask, since you've stated you do not believe you're the Herald. Do you believe in the Maker?" _

_ I was taken back by Cassandra's forwardness, although it shouldn't have surprised me given this was the same woman who had accused me of blowing up the Conclave not three days ago. I pondered my response, trying to decide how tactfulI wanted to be. "I don't," I finally said. I saw no point in lying. "I can't believe in a Maker who would give people access to magic, and then turn His back on us. Further, I can't believe in a Maker who would let others harm us for something we have no control over." That was putting it lightly. My real thoughts were far more... colorful. _

_ Cassandra glared darkly at me; I swore there was more vitriol in her eyes than when she'd suspected me of murdering the Divine. "Still," she said, her voice cold, "I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason, even if you don't." _

_ "That’s your choice." I couldn't keep the condescension out of my voice as I turned on my heel, walking away from Cassandra... _

Cullen’s sharp voice snapped me out of my reverie as he barked, "We must look into it. I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker." The advisors had been arguing for what felt like hours, though it had probably been closer to 30 minutes. 

"Or, as I've said, the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe," Josephine countered. I had tried to propose this solution earlier, but I could barely get a word in between all of the arguing.

"You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!" Cullen said, practically biting the air as he began to raise his voice.

"Are you finished?" I snapped. I'd had enough of this. Of Cullen, acting like he knew better than everyone, of Cassandra, still glaring at me from across the war table, of Josephine trying to keep things from dissolving into chaos, even though we were far past civility. “Can’t I at least find out what the mages want? I  _ am _ one of them, after all."

Cassandra made a noise of disgust. "No doubt what they've always wanted: support for their cause."

"And how is that any different from us?" I shot back.

After a tense moment, Josephine finally spoke again. "Perhaps we shouldn't discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk."

"They are certainly powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realize," Cassandra retorted.

"You think it's a trap?" I turned to face Cassandra, gripping the edge of the war table to keep from clenching my fists. "It will be dangerous no matter what, most likely for me. You've had few reservations about putting my life in danger so far."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at me. "If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave-"

"The same could be said about the Templars," Josephine quickly added. 

"True enough," Cullen admitted, sounding calmer than before. "And right now, I'm not sure we have enough influence to approach the Order, especially after what happened in Val Royeaux..."

"Then we go to the mages. At least to find out what Grand Enchanter Fiona wants," I said firmly. Before anyone could argue with me, I turned to leave, pushing the heavy door of the war room open and hastening toward the exit of the Chantry. 

"Lady Trevelyan! Wait!"

I stopped, trying to keep my anger at a simmer as I glanced back to see Commander Rutherford trailing behind me. "What?" I snapped. "Are you here to try and convince me to change my mind? Because you've all been arguing for days now about what to do, and I'm tired of it!"

"No, that's not... I just wanted to..." Cullen sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. I placed my hands on my hips, staring at him impatiently. "Gryffin," he began, and I felt myself bristle when he used my first name. "I simply wanted to check in with you."

"About what?"

He was clearly put off by my attitude, trying feebly to hide it. For some reason that only made me angrier. Still, he pushed on, saying, "Just... with the Inquisition. We're asking a lot of you, I recognize that."

I snorted, folding my arms around me as if that would help contain my anger. "'Asking a lot?' We're past 'asking a lot,'" I sneered. "No one has really 'asked' me anything, only demanded. I had no say in this; I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." I turned, knowing I needed to get away from him before I exploded. "I don't need you to check in on me. I need you and the rest of your advisers to make up their damn minds so we can close the Breach."

I made for the door once more. "Gryffin..." he called after me.

I kept my gaze trained forward, eyes narrowed, not bothering to conceal the anger in my voice. "We're not friends. Stick with Lady Trevelyan. Or better yet, don't speak to me at all." I stomped out of the Chantry, fuming, pulling my hood up around my face to hide my infuriated expression. 

#

**_Later that evening, outside of the training grounds_ **

The sky was beginning to turn light purple with streaks of orange and pink as the sun began to set over the Frostback Mountains. I was seated on a low cliff, overlooking the training grounds and the smithy. My dinner sat untouched next to me as I thumbed through my notes for the mission tomorrow and packing list for the journey to Redcliffe. I was just double checking the coordinates of the village when I heard a voice from below. "Mind if I join you?"

I glanced down, surprised to see Warden Blackwall looking up at me. "Um... sure," I said, watching as he walked the short path up the cliff and took a seat next to me.

"Do you always eat here?" he asked, setting his dinner tray on his lap.

"Most of the time," I said with a shrug. I looked back at the papers in my hand, but found I couldn't really focus anymore. I sat the pile down, deciding to actually try and enjoy my dinner for once.

"What's the appeal, besides this glorious view of Haven?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice."

"Quiet, mostly."

"I could leave..."

"No!" My voice came out a bit quicker than I’d intended it to. Now that he was here, I didn't really want him to leave. "I mean... I apologize. I didn't mean it like that."

Blackwall offered me a warm smile, seeming unbothered by my stammering. "I enjoy the quiet as well,” he said, referring back to my previous statement. 

I nodded in agreement, happy to have something else to talk about. "There’s too many people in the serving tent. Too much noise, too much..." I trailed off, feeling self-conscious sharing so much about myself. 

Blackwall gave a grunt of approval. I couldn't even imagine how he felt after living alone in the woods for years. We ate together in silence for a bit, watching the sun dip lower below the horizon. "What were you working on before my interruption?" he asked after a bit, drawing his gaze back to me.

"I- you didn't interrupt-" My face flushed a bit as I tried to pull myself together, not entirely sure why his presence was turning me into a stuttering mess. I cleared my throat, looking away from his purposeful stare. "We're heading to Redcliffe tomorrow to meet with the rebel mages. I wanted to be prepared."

"Prepared? Is there more I should be aware of?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "No, it's just... I like to know everything about a mission. Where we're going, who we're supposed to be meeting, all of the reports Leliana has on them. I know it drives Cullen crazy, but he hasn't stopped me yet from taking the reports." I absently reached toward my neck, grasping the locket I always wore and fiddling with it, my gaze drifting back out toward the horizon. I knew the consequences of not being prepared, and I was determined to never find myself in that situation again.

"What's the commander like?" Blackwall asked. "I feel I should know more about the people I'm meant to be working with."

I frowned, thinking about what to tell him. For all my time here with the Inquisition, I hadn't exactly made friends. Enemies, perhaps. "Well... Commander Cullen is talented with a sword and shield. His men seem to respect him on the field," I remarked, deciding that was the most diplomatic answer I could muster for the moment. I knew my opinions of him were slightly colored by my feelings about Templars, and felt I should let Blackwall form his own opinions.

"What about the Lady Seeker, Cassandra?"

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to hide a soft click of my tongue; there was no concealing the hostility between us at this point. "I'll let you form your own conclusions on Seeker Cassandra."

"Fair enough," he responded. “So… is there anyone here whom you’ve gotten to know?” 

I drew my knees up to my chest, thinking for a moment. "Varric's nice enough. He's really tried to help me settle in as best as he could."

"Varric is quite the character," Blackwall commented with a laugh. "Have you seen the stories he's writing?"

"I've heard about them. Why, have  _ you _ seen them?"

"Varric didn't give me much choice,” he said, rubbing his beard as a bemused expression crossed his face. “His descriptions of me are... colorful, to say the least." 

"Colorful?" I raised an eyebrow at him, a half grin forming on my lips. "Well, now I'll have to see if these descriptions do you justice.  _ I'd _ say you're oddly charming, for a man we found wandering the woods," I teased.

"I always thought myself more odd than charming, but I'll take a compliment from a lady," he returned. "They're hard to come by these days."

"Compliments or ladies?"

Blackwall let out a hearty laugh, the sound surrounding us like warm wind on a summer’s day. "Both." I found myself joining in the contagious laughter, running my hands through my long hair. He had a jovial smile on his face, his blue eyes twinkling as his gaze met mine. I was taken aback by the intensity of his stare, feeling a blush cover my cheeks. I glanced away, rubbing the back of my neck. "I should get back to work," I murmured, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

"Of course, my lady." Blackwall stood up, gathering his things. I shivered a little bit, the sun having disappeared behind the mountain range and stealing the warmth of the day. Blackwall took notice, removing his coat and carefully draping it over my shoulders.

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's no problem," he assured me, adjusting it so it was snug. "My chambers are just down the way; you'll have a longer walk back when you're finished. And you mages are notoriously fragile," he teased.

"Watch it, Warden," I poked back, pulling his coat tighter around me, "or I'll leave you out to dry next time you need an ice wall between you and a rogue Templar."

Blackwall chuckled, bowing his head as he said, "Enjoy your evening, my lady."

“Gryffin.” He raised an eyebrow, as I said, “You can call me Gryffin. If you want. Sometimes. Just… um… Gryffin is fine.” He smiled, giving me a nod before walking away. 

I watched as he retreated, a strange feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't felt this way in a long time. Almost 12 years, to be exact. Not since...

Wait. Was he... flirting with me? 

I started to stand, thinking, _ I need to find Varric. _

I glanced down at the stack of papers in front of me, only half-read, letting out a sigh and sinking back down.  _ After I finish preparing for our mission. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is it, my love?” he asked. 
> 
> And that. Noah didn’t speak like that. “You’re not Noah,” I whispered, pulling away from him and looking around. “And this isn’t Ostwick, is it?”
> 
> “Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?” he said, his voice growing urgent, but I could tell now that this was… wrong. A nightmare. Something worse.
> 
> “No.” My eyes narrowed in sudden realization. “You’re a demon.” 
> 
> Noah’s smile faded, and his eyes darkened. His skin began to stretch, tear, his body morphing, changing, until the only thing that remained in front of me was a despair demon, lumbering over me at twice my height. “I underestimated you, mage.”

**Haven, Herald’s Quarters**   
  
_ I sat in the library of the Ostwick Circle, paging through a book of enchantments that I’d already read a hundred times. I glanced around impatiently, sighing and tossing the book down. Noah was running late, which was unlike him. Just as I was about to give up and go looking for him, he rounded the corner, green eyes shining with their familiar sparkle.  _

_ “Finally!” I called, standing up and throwing my arms around him.  _

_ “Sorry, I got tied up with one of the senior enchanters,” he explained, hugging me back.  _

_ “Wait, why?” I stepped back nervously as he took my hands. “Is it… time? For your Harrowing?” _

_ “They wouldn’t say.” He looked to the ground, thumbs running gently along the backs of my hands. “But I think it’s soon. I wish I knew what to expect.” _

_ “You’ll be fine.” I hoped I sounded more assured than I felt. I needed to believe that he would come out of this unscathed. I wrapped my arms around him again, nuzzling my head into his neck and inhaling his familiar scent... _

_ That was when I realized something was off. Noah’s skin was cold, and didn’t have his usual, earthy scent. The library was empty, not bustling with its usual midday activity. And it was darker than usual. I pulled away from him, staring uneasily into his eyes that were no longer twinkling.  _

_ “What is it, my love?” he asked.  _

_ And that. Noah didn’t speak like that. “You’re not Noah,” I whispered, pulling away from him and looking around. “And this isn’t Ostwick, is it?” _

_ “Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?” he said, his voice growing urgent, but I could tell now that this was… wrong. A nightmare. Something worse. _

_ “No.” My eyes narrowed in sudden realization. “You’re a demon.”  _

_ Noah’s smile faded, and his eyes darkened. His skin began to stretch, tear, his body morphing, changing, until the only thing that remained in front of me was a despair demon, lumbering over me at twice my height. “I underestimated you, mage.” Its voice was loud and distorted as it lunged towards me, hands outstretched - _

I jumped awake with a yelp, panting, clutching at my chest. Sweat covered my face as I untangled myself from my covers, throwing them to the ground and looking around in confusion.

“Fuck.” I sat up, pressing my palms to my eyes as reality finally shoved the remnants of the nightmare aside. I was in my quarters in Haven, the first light of dawn streaming through the windows. I tried to steady my shaking hands with a deep breath, climbing out of bed to get dressed and prepare to leave for Redcliffe. It had been awhile since I had dreamed of Noah; I had no doubt it was connected to my conversation with Blackwall last night. 

There was no time to dwell on that though; my companions would be gathering soon to leave for the Hinterlands, and I wanted to try and speak to Varric before everyone else arrived. I got dressed, making sure to add some warm layers to protect against the frigid mountain air. I grabbed Blackwall’s coat to return it to him before heading out, hurrying toward Varric’s camp in the center of Haven. 

“Morning, Blossom,” Varric called as I approached, working on shining his crossbow. “Need something?”

“Yes, actually.” I glanced around nervously, hoping no one else was in earshot. 

“Is everything okay?” Varric asked, sitting Bianca down and turning his full attention to me. 

“I think Blackwall was flirting with me!” I almost clapped my hands over my mouth, surprised at my own candidness with Varric. Still, I needed someone to talk to, and so far, he was the closest thing I had to a friend here. 

“Tell me more,” Varric said, sounding interested. 

I took a seat by the fire, warming my hands as I began to explain the events of my evening - how Blackwall had joined me for dinner, our friendly banter, his coat - as Varric listened thoughtfully. Once I was done, I asked, “So? What do you think?” 

“Sounds like flirting to me.” I let out a soft groan, dropping my head into my hands as Varric added, “It’s a natural reaction, since you were flirting too.” 

I looked up, eyes widening. “What?!” I shook my head in disbelief. “No, I wasn’t! I was just being friendly…” I trailed off, mentally revisiting the evening once more. “Shit. I was…”

“Why do you look like that’s a bad thing?” 

I didn’t answer, reaching up to run my fingers over my locket. Friend or not, I didn’t really know Varric well enough to talk about this with him. I glanced around, seeing Blackwall and Vivienne approaching, the last two members of our party. “Not a word of this to anyone, ever, got it?” I hissed at Varric, standing up. 

“Sure, got it,” he said, though he still had a half smile on his face. I glared at him before turning my attention to packing supplies. I checked a couple of our packs, counting healing potions, before standing up, almost walking into Blackwall. 

“Ah! Uh… good morning, Warden Blackwall.” I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a step back, wishing my cheeks didn’t always telegraph every feeling I experienced. 

“Good morning, Herald,” he returned, curiosity spreading across his face. 

“No need to be so formal,” I said, laughing nervously.  _ Wait. Did that sound flirty? _ I glanced over at Varric, who was watching me and looked like he was stifling laughter. I grabbed Blackwall’s arm, pulling him out of earshot of Varric. “Here’s your coat back,” I said, pushing it back into his hands a bit too eagerly. 

“Thank you,” he said, furrowing his brow as he looked at me. “Is everything alright, Gryffin?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” My voice sounded far too cheerful even to my own ears. “I’m just ready to get on the road and get to Redcliffe.” I turned away from him, heading off to go make sure we were all prepared to leave. Varric opened his mouth to say something, and I cut him off with a quick, “Don’t.” I didn’t need to hear it right now. I needed to focus on the mission ahead. 

#

**Redcliffe Village, Gull and Lantern**

I stood outside the Gull and Lantern, still, back straight, my veneer far calmer than I felt on the inside. Something wasn’t right here. Between the strange time magic that had been present at the rift outside of Redcliffe Village, and the fact that Fiona was no longer in charge of the rebel mages… 

“Gryffin?” Blackwall’s voice broke through my thoughts as he came to stand next to me. 

I turned to face him, frowning. “What do you think is in there?” 

“Nothing good.” He pulled open the door for me. “After you.” 

I rolled my shoulders back, walking into the tavern with Vivienne and Varric flanking me. The dining room was empty, except for Grand Enchanter Fiona and a handful of rebel mages. I could feel the pit in my stomach growing as I approached her. 

“Welcome, agents of the Inquisition.” Fiona nodded her head towards us, her voice cordial, formal. I had never met her before Val Royeaux despite my time in the Circle, though I had heard the stories of her. A Grey Warden turned Senior Enchanter turned Grand Enchanter. She was a legend. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

I frowned, trying to ascertain if she was being overly formal or… something else. “You invited us here. You came all the way to Val Royeaux to invite the Inquisition.” 

  
  


Fiona frowned, shaking her head slightly. “You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.” 

_ So… not a formality.  _ I tried to shake off my confusion, narrowing my eyes. “There’s no mistake. While the templars were leaving, you came to Val Royeaux and asked me here.” Suddenly I wished I had brought Cassandra with me. 

“The templars left Val Royeaux?” Fiona asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “Where did they go? That sounds… why does that sound so strange?” She lowered her gaze, shaking her head in confusion. 

“Fiona, dear, your dementia is showing,” Vivienne quipped. 

“Not funny,” I muttered under my breath. 

Fiona continued. “Whoever… or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The free mages have already… pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.” 

“Andraste’s ass,” Varric hissed. “I’m trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I’ve got nothing.” 

I could feel my blood beginning to boil, shifting uncomfortably as I folded my arms. Varric was right. “So basically, you’re telling me this was useless. Do you have any negotiating power at all?”

“As one indentured to a Magister, I have no authority to negotiate with you,” Fiona said sadly.

“Then who the hell are we meeting with today?”

As if on cue, the door to the tavern opened again. A man of obvious Tevinter origins, accompanied by a small party, approached us. “Welcome, my friends!” he said, his voice suspiciously jovial. “I apologize for not being available to greet you earlier.”

“Magister Alexius, I presume?” I folded my arms, hardly in the mood for his… theatrics. 

“I am indeed.” He sidled up to me, looking me up and down with curiosity. “And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade?” He paused, meeting my gaze before he said, “Interesting.”

_ This is not going to go well, _ I thought to myself. Blackwall had come up next to me, his arms folded as well, his posture assertive. I could feel my blood pressure lowering a bit with him next to me, though I tried not to dwell for too long on that. “I’d like to know more about this… ‘alliance.’ The Grand Enchanter told me she was ‘indentured to a Magister.’ What does that mean, exactly?”

“Our Southern brethren have no legal status in the Imperium,” Magister Alexius explained, his voice collected. “As they were not born citizens of Tevinter, they must work for a period of ten years before gaining rights. As their protector, I shall oversee their work for the Imperium.”

_ Protector? I call bullshit _ . I kept a straight face, saying, “I’m not clear on when, exactly, you negotiated this arrangement with Fiona.” 

“When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the templars, who rushed to attack them. It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did.” Alexius sounded so smug I wanted to reach across and strangle him with my bare hands. Blackwall made a noise next that I assumed reflected a similar sentiment. 

_ Steady,  _ I thought, more for myself than anyone else as Alexius spoke. With a smile plastered on my face, I continued my investigation of the situation. “As magnanimous as this is for you, I must inquire as to what the Imperium gains from taking rebel mages under its wing.”

“For the moment, the Southern mages are a considerable expense.” If he was picking up on my anger, he certainly didn’t let it show in his manner or his voice. “After they are properly trained, they will join our legion.” 

Fiona, who had been standing silently with a look of distress on her face, suddenly interrupted. “You said not all my people would be military! There are children, those not suited to-”

“And one day, I’m sure they will all be productive citizens of the Imperium.” Alexius’ tone shifted for just a moment, his eyes darkening as he looked at Fiona. “When their debts are paid.”

I looked between Fiona and Alexius, not sure who I wanted to murder more in this moment. I had expected a few things from this meeting. Best case scenario, an easy alliance with the rebel mages. Worst case scenario, a trap laid to kill me. But this? Rebel mages - people who were likely my friends, my kin - indentured into servitude with no say in the matter… Whether I secured this alliance or not, I had to help the mages. 

With as much grace as I could muster, I turned my full attention to Alexius. I kept my tone agreeable as I said, “Thank you for the information. Really, I’m only here to get mages to help close the Breach.” 

“Right to business!” Alexius waved his hand, leading us toward an empty table in the middle of the tavern. I followed him, glancing back once more at the former Grand Enchanter. Her face was painted with despair, her eyes pleading with me. I looked away, feeling guilt and ire fighting within me. If I had any chance of making this work, I needed to appear impartial. I took a seat from Alexius, folding my hands. Blackwall remained positioned close to me, Varric and Vivienne hanging back a bit, though no doubt just as ready to jump in at the sight of any trouble. 

“Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?” Alexius called to another Tevinter mage. The young man started toward us, bearing a slight similarity to Alexius. “Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.” 

“A pleasure.” Felix bowed, meeting my curious gaze. He held my stare for just a moment too long before he turned to find a scribe. 

_ What the hell is going on? _ I thought to myself, keeping my hands folded to hide the nervous, icy glow building around my finger tips. I needed to keep it together just a little longer. “I am not surprised you’re here.” Alexius had begun to speak, and I brought my attention back to him. “There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor.” His gaze was intense, as if he was trying to size me up, figure out my endgame. “Ambitious, indeed.”

“Ambitious, yes,” I agreed, “but hopefully not impossible. We’ll take every mage you can give us.”

“There will have to be-” A clatter distracted us both as we glanced over, Alexius’ face shifting to concern. Felix had returned, suddenly looking a bit unsteady. I instinctively stood up to help him, thinking he might fall. I gasped as he collapsed forward into my arms, causing me to stumble back a couple of steps. 

“Felix!” Alexius cried, hurrying around the table to us. I felt Blackwall’s hand on my back, steadying me as I helped Felix to his feet as well. 

“My lady, I’m so sorry,” Felix said apologetically, grasping my arm and hand as I assisted him. “Please forgive me.”

“Are you alright?” Alexius was fretting around Felix now, seeming to have completely forgotten about our negotiations. I stared in complete and utter confusion, my hand still clutched close as Felix pulled away from me. 

“I’m fine, Father,” Felix tried to reassure him, but Alexius was completely focused on him now. I found myself transfixed for a moment, surprised by the gentle expression that had settled into his features.

“Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time.” He gave me a slight nod, seeming a world away, before helping Felix toward the tavern exit. “Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle,” he told her. She followed after him, looking resigned and despondent. Right before they left, he called back, “I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date.”

I waited with bated breath until I was certain he was gone, before tentatively looking down at my hand. In it was a small piece of paper that Felix had slipped to me with a short note messily scribbled:  _ Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.  _

“What is it?” Blackwall’s voice was tinged with concern as he approached me, Varric and Vivienne re-joining us as well. I just shook my head, handing him the note. I watched him as he read it, and he asked, “The Chantry? Where is this from?”

“Felix.” My voice was monotone. My mind was racing as I tried to process everything that had just happened. Vivienne and Varric were talking, but they sounded far away as they discussed the situation.

After a moment, it was Varric who asked me, “So, Blossom? What do you wanna do?”

I blinked at them all, glancing between Varric, who always looked so full of hope when he looked at me, Vivienne, who was trying to mask her impatience with myself and situation, and Blackwall, who looked as disquieted as I felt. Finally, I answered them with the only response I could come up with. “I think I’m going to get a drink.” 

#

**Redcliffe Village, later at the Gull and Lantern**

The Gull and Lantern had filled with people again, seeming to return to its normal bustle now that the Magister was gone. I sipped on my ale, resisting the urge to chug it like I normally would if I were alone. Even still, I felt my muscles begin to relax and my mind begin to calm down just enough for me to start to process what had just happened. “So… thoughts?” I looked around at my companions, ready for their input. 

“I think this is a tremendously bad idea, Herald.” Vivienne gestured to the beverage in my hand, a small scowl on her face. “Shouldn’t we be going to the Chantry?”

“One, I wasn’t asking about my choice in drink, and two, we’re not going anywhere until we figure out what that was all about,” I snapped, taking another swig of my drink. “The note said to come to the Chantry in the evening on the back, and we’re still hours from sundown.” I tried not to sound too defensive as I fiddled with the ale glass in my hand. 

“How on Earth did a Tevinter Magister manage to imprison all of the Southern rebel mages? And how did Fiona let it happen?” Varric asked. He had a drink in his hand as well, making me feel less out of place. “I mean… I didn’t imagine seeing her in Val Royeaux, did I?”

“If you imagined it, then so did I. We were both there.” I rubbed my temples, groaning a little bit. “It has to be connected to that strange rift outside of the village. Some sort of… time magic maybe?”

“You’re a mage. Have you ever heard of or seen this kind of magic?” Blackwall asked.

“Never in my life,” I admitted. I’d seen a lot of strange magic in my travels the last few years - abominations, hedge mages, heard rumors of the Witch of the Wilds, even had some unfortunate run-ins with blood magic - but this was completely new to me. “Madame Vivienne?”

She shook her head. “Never.” 

I sighed in frustration, taking another chug of my ale. “So we know nothing about how this happened, besides Fiona making an epically big mistake. What about this note? Is it a trap? Should we go?”

“Of course it’s a trap,” Vivienne said. “This entire thing is a trap laid by the rebel mages.”

I glared at her, turning my attention to Varric and Blackwall and hoping for something different. 

“And what do you guys think?’

Varric shrugged. “Madam Vivienne is probably right, Blossom. But I still think it might be worth exploring.”

“Blackwall?”

He nodded in agreement with Varric. “It could be a trap, but at this point, we should follow through. We’ll have your back, Gryffin.” 

“Alright, it’s settled then.” I downed the rest of my drink, tossing some coins on the table. “Let’s prepare and head to the Chantry. If this is a trap, we’ll be ready.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He headed back toward his quarters, mulling over what had just transpired. While he had already suspected that she was struggling, recognizing many of the things he himself had struggled with after Kinloch and Kirkwall, he hadn’t quite expected this. He decided, at least for the moment, to keep this discovery to himself. He’d seen enough people go down this path - templars and soldiers alike - and damned if he wasn’t going to help Gryffin change her path before it was too late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: violence, alcoholism, depression, injury, anxiety, ptsd
> 
> The first two sections are first person, with the last section shifting to third person from Cullen's perspective. Just wanted to give a heads up to prepare for that change and to be aware of specific triggers for this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Redcliffe Village. Outside the Chantry.**

We wound our way up the path to the Chantry, the sun setting in the distance. I was on edge, fiddling nervously with my necklace as we approached the large doors of the chapel. Pressing my ear to the door, I let out an audible groan as I heard the crackling of a rift expanding inside. anxious as we approached the large doors of the chapel. “Get ready for demons,” I called back, drawing my staff and pushing the heavy doors open.    
  
To my surprise, there was someone already inside - a mage, it seemed - bashing demons left and right with his staff. He looked up as he saw us enter, a spirited smile on his face. “Good! You’re finally here! Now help me close this, would you?”   
  
I began to stammer something in response, when the rift pulsed again, sending a new wave of demons forward. “Fuck,” I hissed under my breath, leaping into action. I used my staff to send shockwaves of ice at the surrounding demons, trying my best to stall them so Blackwall and Varric could take them out. It didn’t take long for us to clear most of the demons from this wave, giving me enough space to get close to the rift.   
  
I tugged off the glove covering my marked hand, trying to rush toward the rift when my legs suddenly ground to a crawl. I tried to move faster, but it was like dragging my limbs through a swamp.  _ Shit. Is this another time warp rift? _ I thought as I pressed forward, finally managing to escape the invisible boundaries of the area. Just as I extended my hand to try and close the rift, something slammed into me from the side, sending me flying. My back and head smacked into the brick wall of the Chantry and I let out a cry of pain, sliding to the ground. I felt the breath knocked out of me, my head spinning and my vision blacking out, though I could still hear the battle happening around me.    
  
“Dammit, Gryffin!” I heard Blackwall yell as I blinked several times, trying to get my vision to clear up. As everything started to come back into focus, I watched Blackwall shield bash the demon that had hit me, before driving his sword into its back. He walked over to me, reaching out his hand to help me to my feet. He said nothing, but I could see the concern lining his features.    
  
I tried to muster the energy for a cheeky response as I grasped his hand, pulling myself to my feet. All thoughts of reassuring him left me as I nearly collapsed again, the blood rushing from my head. Blackwall caught me, and I reluctantly let him put an arm around my waist and hook my other arm around his shoulder. He helped me hobble over to the rift, and I held my hand out once again, directing my focus to the crackling portal above me. Green light shot out of my hand, dancing between myself and the rift. I gritted my teeth, managing to keep my hand up until I heard the tell-tale snapping sound of the rift closing, spraying us with droplets of green light.    
  
“Shit.” I reached up, pressing a hand to my throbbing forehead. My ears were starting to ring now too, and I felt like throwing up. “Do you have a healing potion?” I asked Blackwall.    
  
He reached into his potions belt, offering me a full elfroot potion. I took a sip, making a face; even after my time in the Circle, I still hated the taste of Elfroot.    
  
“Fascinating.” 

My attention snapped to the unknown mage, who had made his way over to us. I thought about pulling away from Blackwall, but realized if he let go of me I might just fall over. The mage drew closer to us, a shockingly cavalier expression on his face. “How does that work, exactly?”   
  
I finished the healing poultice, tossing it aside and looking up at the mage with skepticism, at a loss for words.   
  
“You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closed.”   


“Who are you?” My tone was drawn to hide my irritation; I was nearly out of patience for all of this, though at least I could feel the healing potion start to work its magic.  “Ah, getting ahead of myself again,” he said apologetically. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.”  
  
“You’re from Tevinter as well?” I could feel tension growing in my shoulders again as I narrowed my eyes.   
  
“Use caution, my dear,” Vivienne chimed in. “Let one Tevinter in, suddenly they’re scurrying out of all the walls like roaches.”  
  
“Now, now, I’m ever so much more handsome than a cockroach,” Dorian returned, winking at her, before turning back to me. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable - as I’m sure you can imagine.”  
  
“Oh, enough,” I snapped, finally pulling away from Blackwall and stepping toward Dorian. “Are you the one who sent the note? Where’s Felix?” There were too many questions and not enough answers.   
  
“Yes, I sent the note,” Dorian explained. “Someone had to warn you, after all. And Felix… I’m sure he’s on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father.” Dorian’s expression turned somber for the first time since we had entered the Chantry. “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note.  
  
“These days, that’s nothing new,” I grumbled, mostly to myself. “What are we dealing with here?”  
  
“Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you.”

“You have information about that?” Suddenly I was far less annoyed with this… strange, overly exuberant Tevinter mage. 

“It was as if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

I glanced at Vivienne, who’s eyes had widened in surprise. “Manipulating time itself? Many have attempted over the ages, but never once succeeded,” she commented.    
  
I looked back at Dorian. “I thought, maybe… but in all my studies as a mage, I’ve never seen time alteration as a possibility.”

“Oh, it’s possible. The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down.” I clicked my tongue in acknowledgment, and he continued. “Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

My mind was racing. Dorian was telling me everything, giving me all the right answers, explaining away my questions, but… it all felt too perfect. “I think I’d like more proof than ‘Magical time control! Go with it.’”   
  
“I know what I’m talking about. I helped develop this magic.” A pensive look crossed his face as he continued, saying, “What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them.” I turned, seeing Felix entering the Chantry and appearing much better than he had in the tavern. 

“Took you long enough,” Dorian chirped, the jovial tone returning to his voice. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” Felix joined us, a grave look on his face “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori.’”

“ _ Venatori _ ?” Just when I thought I was getting a grip on this, another twist was thrown in. 

Felix’s frown deepened. “And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.” 

I groaned, letting myself sink down to the pew behind me and resting my once-again-spinning head in my hands. I could feel my heart starting to race, hands trembling slightly, the crushing weight of yet another enemy settling onto my shoulders. “Why? Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?”

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why,” Felix said gently. “Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“And you can close the rifts,” Dorian added. “Maybe there’s a connection? Or they see you as a threat?”

“Well tell them to join the fucking club.” I sat up, running my hands over my hair in a weak attempt to hide my panic. Directing my attention to Felix, I said, “Alexius is your father. Why are you working against him?”

“For the same reason Dorian works against him,” he said sadly. “I love my father, and I love my country. But this? Cults? Time magic? What he’s doing now is madness.” He looked at me, pain in his eyes as he said, “For his own sake, you have to stop him.”    
  
“It would also be nice if he didn’t rip a hole in time,” Dorian quipped. “There’s already a hole in the sky.”

“Don’t remind me.” I let out a heavy sigh, sitting back and folding my arms. “So. What do we do then?”

“You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage.” Dorian glanced at the Chantry doors, then back at me. “I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way.” He turned to leave, but glanced back, saying, “Whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.” He stole one last glance at Felix, and with a smile, said, “And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” Felix said solemnly before he, too, turned to leave. 

I stared at the Chantry doors as they swung shut with a heavy thud, before turning to look at my companions. My mind was swimming, muddy, but I knew our next step. “We need to return to Haven. Now.” 

#

**Back at Haven**

Cullen was already waiting for us on the training grounds as we arrived at Haven. He took one look at my face before letting out a heavy sigh. “So it’s true? The rebel mages are under the control of a Tevinter magister?”

“Wow, word travels fast.” I winced, rubbing the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes against the bright setting sun. While it seemed like most of my injuries had healed after the fight in the Chantry, my head was still pounding, and my memories of the whole event were getting… fuzzy, as more time passed. 

“Leliana’s agents sent word as soon as they heard,” Cullen explained. 

_ Of course they did _ , I thought bitterly. I hated the feeling of being watched at all times, whether by the Nightingale’s agents or the Inquisition scouts. “Then you know we need to act fast. We should meet tomorrow morning once everyone is up to speed.” 

Cullen didn’t move, watching me curiously. “Herald - are you alright?”

I let my hand drop to my side, looking at him with as searing a glare as I could muster. “No, I’m not, clearly!” I snapped. “There’s an entire cult of Tevinter mages out for my blood and we have no fucking idea why! So stop wasting my time, figure out a plan, and go away!” 

Silence spilled over us like glass shattering through an empty room, sharp and dangerous. I felt my breath catch, the tension leaving us frozen in place. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Cullen spoke. “Of course, Lady Trevelyan. Right away.” Each word was enunciated clearly, punctuating the air as he turned and walked away.  
  
I knew I should have felt guilty, but I was too tired, too frustrated, too  _ pissed off _ , too… I shoved my feelings aside another sharp pain shot through my skull, grabbing my belongings and hurrying toward my quarters before any of my companions could say anything. I slammed the door open, tossing my bags down and not bothering to put anything away. I stripped off my armor, throwing it aside as well and changing into a warm sweater and pants. After a quick glance around, I drew the curtains and collapsed tiredly into bed. I wanted to let myself drift off now, but I knew if I did that, I would spend the night plagued with nightmares. I reached under my bed, pulling out a bottle of liquor I had nicked from a recent requisition. 

I had no idea what it was; it looked like some sort of Fereldan Scotch. I popped the lid off, bringing the bottle to my lips and managing two large swigs. I coughed, grimacing and glancing at the bottle.  _ Not the best stuff, but it’ll do the trick _ . I settled into bed, sipping on the bottle, waiting for the blessed moment when darkness would take over. 

#

**Haven, outside the Chantry** **  
** **Cullen Rutherford**

Cullen walked down the path from the Chantry, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing uncomfortably. Despite Gryffin’s insistence that he leave her alone, and despite his own personal irritation at the way she’d spoken to him earlier, he had a feeling something was wrong, and he couldn’t bring himself to let it go without checking on her. 

He now realized he was probably the worst person to check on Lady Trevelyan, but he wasn’t really sure who else to ask. From the rumors he’d heard around camp, she hadn’t exactly made friends with anybody else. As he approached the Herald’s quarters, he thought about what he would say. She had made no effort to hide her dislike for him from their first meeting, and Cullen hadn’t done his best to try and ease the tension between them. He hoped this might be a chance to start to mend their relationship.

  
He knocked on her door, calling, “Lady Trevelyan? Ah… I was hoping we could… um… talk, for a moment.” He listened, hearing nothing in response for a few seconds. Then, he heard shuffling within the cabin, followed by a loud thud and a stream of obscenities that would peel the paint off the walls. “Is everything okay?” More silence, than another smaller thud and the sound of breaking glass. Cullen was just about to try and enter to check on her when the door swung open. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, averting his eyes. Gryffin stood in the doorway, half dressed, glaring at him. 

“What?” Her voice was monotone, her stare boring into him. 

Cullen slowly shifted his gaze back to her, his expression changing from embarrassment to concern as he took in her appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair a mess. She looked like she could barely stand, clinging woozily onto the door frame. Then, the smell of alcohol hit him, and it took all of his willpower not to wrinkle his nose. Cullen forgot everything he had planned to say to her, instead cautiously asking, “Gryffin… is everything alright?”

“Fine,” she said, slurring the ‘F’ just a bit. “What do you want?” she repeated.

Cullen was lost for words. He could see the haunted look in her eyes, uncomfortably familiar to him, a look he had seen in his own face before. “I just wanted to check on you after your trip to Redcliffe Village. I... understand it was quite taxing,” he finally managed. 

“Well, don’t,” Gryffin snapped. “Don’t check on me again. I don’t need your help.” Before Cullen could respond, she slammed the door in his face. He listened to her retreating footsteps, waiting, at least until he heard the creak of her settling into bed, before reluctantly turning and walking away. 

He headed back toward his quarters, mulling over what had just transpired. While he had already suspected that she was struggling, recognizing many of the things he himself had struggled with after Kinloch and Kirkwall, he hadn’t quite expected this. He decided, at least for the moment, to keep this discovery to himself. He’d seen enough people go down this path - templars and soldiers alike - and damned if he wasn’t going to help Gryffin change her path before it was too late. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, every time Cullen tried to reach out to her, she lashed out at him. Last night had simply been one moment of many. He certainly couldn’t blame her; he was an ex-templar and she was a mage, and he could only imagine what horrors she had experienced at the hands of people like him. He wasn’t entirely sure why he still wanted to help her, even when she repeatedly rejected his offers of assistance. Perhaps because he saw much of himself in her, especially after the events of Kinloch and Kirkwall. He knew how bad things could get, and knew they would likely only get worse as the Inquisition continued.
> 
> “Knight-Commander Rutherford?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! Introducing one of my favorite non-protag OCs. First section is third-person from Cullen again, the rest is from Gryffin. Also there's a cat in this chapter. 
> 
> Specific TWs/CWs for this chapter: PTSD, alcoholism (implied), memory loss, trauma.

_**The Next Morning. Haven Training Grounds.  
** **Cullen Rutherford** _

Cullen stood out on the training grounds, watching his men as they practiced. Despite the cramped fields and less than ideal conditions, his soldiers were beginning to show improvement. He could see it in the way they held their swords and shields, in their confident movements, the way they blocked and dodged each other's hits. 

His mind wandered back to last night, when he had gone to the Herald’s quarters to check on her. He’d had concerns about Lady Trevelyan’s well-being since her arrival at Haven, and not simply because she had nearly died at the Conclave. He’d noticed she always seemed jumpy, flinching at the smallest sounds and touches. Varric, between his grand, embellished stories, had also hinted that she seemed prone to nightmares, which explained why Cullen often saw her wandering Haven late at night when he himself was struggling to find rest. 

Of course, every time Cullen tried to reach out to her, she lashed out at him. Last night had simply been one moment of many. He certainly couldn’t blame her; he was an ex-templar and she was a mage, and he could only imagine what horrors she had experienced at the hands of people like him. He wasn’t entirely sure why he still wanted to help her, even when she repeatedly rejected his offers of assistance. Perhaps because he saw much of himself in her, especially after the events of Kinloch and Kirkwall. He knew how bad things could get, and knew they would likely only get worse as the Inquisition continued. 

“Knight-Commander Rutherford?” A familiar Orlesian voice broke him out of his thoughts. He turned around to see a short, smiling woman with curly brown hair and twinkling eyes staring cheekily at him, hands on her hips. 

“June Delafose, as I live and breathe,” Cullen exclaimed, not quite believing his eyes as he swept her into a tight embrace. 

“I suppose it’s just Commander Rutherford now, is it not?” she replied, her voice like bells in the wind as she returned the warm embrace. 

“Yes, just Commander.” Cullen finally released her, taking a moment to look her over with a wide smile on his face. “I take it you got my messages? How long have you been here?” he asked, trying, but failing, to hide his excitement. 

“About an hour,” she said, flouncing her hair. “Your spymaster already has me set up in a room and showed me the infirmary.” She moved to stand next to Cullen, folding her arms and examining his soldiers with a critical eye. He braced himself for a cheeky comment about their skill, and was surprised when she asked, “So, where is she? This Herald of Andraste? I’ve been dying to meet her ever since I heard!” 

Cullen barely held back a snort of laughter at June’s enthusiasm. She had no idea what she was in for. “Likely still resting in her quarters. And when you meet her, I would consider avoiding that title. And the enthusiasm. She… hasn’t quite embraced her role.”

“This shouldn’t be surprising to you, Cullen,” June chided. “I imagine this has all been a bit traumatic for her, no?” Cullen shook his head a bit, a light laugh escaping him; June had never been one to sugarcoat things. “She is spit out from the heavens, the only person to survive after a horrific explosion, in a place meant to bring peace between mages and templars. She’s then blamed for that explosion, only to be turned into a prophet to be used as an Inquisition puppet. How else would you expect her to handle this?”

“She’s not a puppet-” Cullen began, before sighing heavily. He knew better than to argue with June when it came to these matters, so he chose to answer her question instead. “I wish I could tell you how she’s handing everything, but I don’t know,” he admitted. “When I try to speak with her, she lashes out at me; she’s spoken with hardly anyone in the Inquisition, for that matter.” 

“Ah, she’s a mage, no?” June asked, a half smile crossing her face. “Cullen, you must know how the mages feel about us templars-”

“Of course, June, I’m not an imbecile, but if we’re to have any chance of closing the Breach, of saving Thedas - she needs to see that we’re not the enemy.”  
  


“And this is why you’ve brought me here, no?” June asked him, raising an eyebrow. “Not simply to help with the wounded, but to help with your Herald?”

Cullen smiled sheepishly. “Well, I- I mean, I was hoping-”

“Oh, hush, Cullen,” June said, playfully putting a finger to his lips. “I am not so naive as to think there was not more you wished from me. You had to have known I would come to help the Inquisition, with or without you asking. And I am happy to help with things with the Herald.”  
  
“Andraste’s breath, June,” Cullen sighed, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Must you make everything so difficult?”  
  
“Of course!” she chirped brightly, turning to leave. “What would be the fun in doing things easily?” 

“If… or, when... you speak to Lady Trevelyan, would you leave me out of it? At least at first? She is… certainly no friend of mine right now,” Cullen implored. 

“I make no promises!” June chimed, her laugh ringing through the air as she headed into Haven. 

Cullen watched until she disappeared before turning back to his soldiers, feeling more at ease than he had in weeks.   
  


#

 ** _  
Haven. Herald’s Quarters._  
**   
  
I forced my eyes open, groaning as even the soft light of morning caused a stab of pain behind my eyes. Throwing an arm over my face, I groaned loudly, turning over to try and go back to sleep. No matter what position I tried to find though, my head seemed to hurt worse, and my stomach…   
  
I reached for my chamber pot, barely grabbing it in time before I vomited. I slowly sat up, wiping my mouth and letting out a shaky breath. My vision felt blurry from how badly my head hurt, but I couldn’t tell if that was my imagination or not. I knew I had drank a lot last night, but this didn’t exactly feel like a normal hangover. 

I looked around my room, frowning. _What happened last night?_ I couldn’t remember anything from the time I had crawled into bed until now, but it looked like a tornado had ripped through my room. My belongings were scattered everywhere, like I had tried to start unpacking, and the bottle I had been drinking from was smashed on the floor. I stood up, feeling a little unsteady as I carefully navigated my way through the broken glass and over to my dresser. I tugged my shirt off to change, wincing as I felt a slight pain in my side. I glanced down, surprised to see a small bruise on my rib cage. _Did I fall last night?_ I thought, deciding to check my body for other injuries. I gasped, finding a large cut on my arm that had barely started to scab over. 

Glancing round at the broken glass once more, I tried to retrace my steps, walking toward the spot where it looked like I had dropped the bottle. I knelt down, shifting some of the pieces around until I noticed a small splatter of blood on the floor. I peered around the room, noticing an overturned foot stool that looked like someone had tripped over it. _Well, that could explain it_ . I stood up, groaning again at my head. Maybe it was time to stop by the infirmary and grab another elfroot potion. 

I changed into the simple, if not slightly bland uniform that had been given to me when I first arrived in Skyhold. I braided my hair loosely to the side, before pulling on a cowl to hopefully block my eyes from the sun and hide my obviously hungover appearance. I grabbed my staff, just in case, and headed out. 

Even in the early morning, the light was blinding as I stepped out onto the path. I had to brace myself for a moment, nearly blacking out from the pain that shot through my head. After a long moment, I forced my feet onward, grateful the infirmary was close. 

I could barely keep my eyes open in the bright morning sun. When I finally reached the infirmary cabin, I nearly threw open the door in relief, stumbling in and looking around. To my immense relief, the building was empty, except for one woman I didn’t recognize in the corner sorting supplies and potions. She swung around to face me, her lips curling into a cheerful smile as she said, “Good morning! How can I-” The words died on her lips as she took in my appearance, dropping what she was doing and rushing to my side. “My goodness, darling, what happened?” she asked in a thick Orlesian accent, taking me by the arm and guiding me over to a cot. 

“Do I look that bad?” I joked, before wincing, carefully lowering myself down onto the cot with her help.  
  
“Well, I’ve certainly seen people looking better,” she responded, the smile returning to her face. She pulled up a chair, taking a seat across from me as she asked, “So, tell me what brings you here this morning.”

I managed a small smile, rubbing my temple. Whoever this woman was, I liked her. “I returned from Redcliffe Village yesterday. I took a hard hit in battle, got knocked into a brick wall and hit my head and back pretty hard. I think I broke some ribs, definitely hurt my head, but I used an elfroot potion right after and still…” I closed my eyes, letting out a heavy sigh and pinching the bridge of my nose. “Honestly my head is just pounding, and it seems like it’s getting worse.” 

“May I take a look?” Her voice was gentle, and when she paused to wait for my permission, I relented, lowering my hand away from my head. She lifted her hands, carefully examining my skull and face, before examining my eyes. “You’ve been drinking,” she stated. 

I was caught off guard, trying to stammer a response but coming up empty. 

“I’m not here to judge” she assured me quickly. “I just need all of the information to figure out what’s wrong.” She stood up, going back to the row of potions on the other side of the room. “Have you noticed anything else since you hit your head? Confusion? Nausea? Anything of that sort?”

“Um… yes, actually,” I said as I thought back through the last 24 hours. “Both of those. I’ve also had blurry vision, my ears have been ringing a little bit, I’m… having some trouble remembering the finer details of evening I got hurt, I’ve been dizzy…” 

The woman returned, holding out a potion to me. “That checks out. I suspect you may have fractured your skull when you were injured, which was probably healed with the first potion, but past that, you probably have a concussion. A simple elfroot potion won’t fix that, but this mixture should.”

I took the potion, eyeing it curiously, before downing it, deciding it likely wouldn’t make things any worse. I offered her back the empty bottle, realizing she was watching me with intense curiosity. “You are her, yes? The Herald of Andraste?” 

I pushed down a flare of agitation, looking down at my lap. “If that’s what you believe, I suppose. I’d prefer if you just call me Lady Trevelyan, though.” I fidgeted with the ends of my sleeves, frowning a bit. “I’ve never seen you here before.” 

“Oh, how rude of me!” She offered her hand to me, giving me a smile so bright it could light up a small city. “I am June Delafose, previously of the Templar Order. I hail from Lydes, and spent the greater part of the last 15 years in Montsimmard, both in and out of the Circle.”   
  
I shook her hand, tilting my head in confusion when I saw her gaze travel down to my arm. I glanced down as well, noticing a thin line of blood seeping through my sleeve. I’d almost forgotten about the cut. 

“Another injury?” she asked, though I instinctively drew my arm closer to myself. She immediately sensed my reluctants, and her voice grew soft as she said, “Whatever you are afraid of, your secret is safe with me. There is no reason for me to share anything that happens here with anyone else.”

“I’m not afraid.” The words came out sharper than I meant them to, but June seemed unaffected. After a tense moment, I relented, carefully rolling up my sleeve and extending my arm to her. It wasn’t the cut I was concerned about, which, though fairly deep, would heal within the day with a bandage and elfroot potion. I was more concerned about the stark scar running all the way down my forearm. I had a matching one on the other arm, both unfortunate reminders of times when I was less able to defend myself. Trying to push away the memories, I turned my attention to June as she tended to the injury, curious about her templar background. “How did you learn so much about potions and injury care?”

“The templars worked closely with the mages at Montsimmard Circle,” she explained as she began to clean the cut. “I arrived this morning at the request of Commander Cullen to help with the infirmary. I left the order a few years ago when I learned what was happening at the Gallows. It was Cullen who enlightened me to the plight of templars and mages alike, and I hoped I could help here with the Inquisition.” 

I let out an inadvertent snort, earning myself a frown from June. “You dislike Cullen? Or templars?” 

I was taken aback by her forwardness, but chose to answer with equal honesty. “Both.”

“I cannot blame you,” June said as she began wrapping the cut, saying nothing of the scar on my arm. “Mages have suffered greatly at the hands of templars, the Chantry, and society as a whole.”  
  
I looked up in surprise, unable to form much of a response. She simply returned my gaze with a smile as she continued, adding, “But you must know that as many templars as there are who would just as soon choose to hunt a mage, there are just as many of us who would lay down our lives for mages as well.” 

_If only it were that simple._ I pulled my arm away, finishing the wrapping myself. I didn’t feel like arguing right now. “I should return to my quarters.” 

“Rest here,” June insisted. “It’s no imposition. I have no other patients right now, and the potion might make you a bit dizzy. I would prefer to keep an eye on you until it has run its course.

I glanced around the empty infirmary. It would definitely be nicer to sleep here than return to a room filled with broken glass and toppled furniture… “I suppose that would be alright. If you don’t mind.” 

June’s bright smile returned as she handed me a cover and a pillow. I set my shoes aside, settling onto the cot and wrapping myself up in the thick, warm blanket. The throbbing in my head was already starting to subside, a comfortably warm feeling washing over me. “Rest,” came June's voice, already sounding far away as I felt myself drifting off to sleep. “For a moment, let someone else carry your burdens.” 

#

_**Later that evening. Haven infirmary.** _

Distant voices drew me out of my slumber, and I shifted awake, stretching out and glancing around. It took me a moment to remember I was in the infirmary, not my quarters. I was alone, though I could hear June’s voice just outside speaking to… Cullen?

I sat up cautiously, letting out a sigh of relief at the absence of pain in my head. My mind was clear for the first time in days, and I felt like I could finally think straight again. The door swung open, June trotting in and pushing it shut behind her, though not before I caught Cullen’s gaze peering in at me. “Ah, you’re awake!” she chimed, hands on her hips. 

“What was he doing here?” I combed my hands through my messy hair, pulling it to the side and loosely braiding it. 

“Checking in.” She left it at that, taking one of my hands to check my pulse and examining my eyes. I got the sense she was hiding something, but chose not to push as she said, “You seem like you’re feeling better.”

“I am, although I’m guessing by the dark outside that I slept all day.”

“I’ve fielded any messages for you,” she said, releasing my hand so I could pull my boots back on. “The only important thing you need to know is the advisors would like you to meet in the Chantry in an hour. Oh, and there was a gentleman who inquired about you.” She walked away, picking up a piece of paper and examining it. “A… Warden Blackwall?”

“Oh.” I looked down at my lap, feeling heat creep up into my cheeks. I wasn’t sure why that was so embarrassing to me. Perhaps because the last time he’d seen me, I had lost my temper at Cullen for basically no reason… 

I stood up, adjusting my cloak and scarf and double checking that I had my necklace. “Thank you so much for your kindness,” I said, truly appreciative. 

“Of course, Lady Trevelyan.” She reached out, taking my hand in both of her own. “You may reach out to me should you require anything else. I plan to stay with the Inquisition as long as I can be of service.” 

I gave her a slight nod, before heading out of the infirmary. It was a clear night, the air unusually still, but bitingly cold. I figured if I hurried, I might have time to check in with Blackwall before I needed to be to the Chantry. I headed down the path toward the Smithy, wrapping my arms around myself. 

Halfway down the path, I noticed someone headed toward me, holding a bundle in his arms. I stopped, narrowing my eyes before realizing it was Blackwall. _Well, that’s convenient,_ I thought, feeling an odd surge of nervousness as he approached. “Good evening, Warden Blackwall,” I said, before mentally kicking myself for the formality.   
  
“You as well, Lady Trevelyan.” 

I shifted awkwardly from side to side, inwardly berating myself for being unable to act normally in his presence. After a painful silence, I glanced down at the bundle of blankets in his arms, realizing it was moving. There was a soft sound, then a pair of bright green eyes appeared, staring up at me with an intense, curious gaze. “Um… is that a cat?” I asked, confused. 

Blackwall looked down, then back up at me, a sheepish look on his face. “Yes.” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably as he explained, “It’s been loitering around my quarters the past couple of days. I’ve been giving it scraps, but I thought I might… bring it to the infirmary to make sure it was okay.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle a smile. “That cat looks fine.”  
  
“Well, you know… you can never be too cautious.” 

The cat meowed again, struggling in Blackwall’s awkward grasp. “Have you never held a cat before?” I teased, carefully reaching out and taking the cat from his grasp. It was a large, sturdy creature with thick fluffy fur, clearly built for the cold mountain weather.   
  
“No; my family kept dogs and horses.”

I giggled as the cat settled into my arms, looking up at me with its startling green eyes, eyes that reminded me so much of Noah it hurt for a moment. I took a deep breath, looking up at Blackwall. “I heard you were looking for me?”

“Yes.” Blackwall’s expression changed to one of worry for a moment. “I hoped to touch base; I hadn’t seen you since last night, after you gave the Commander a tongue lashing and then disappeared…”

I winced a bit at the memory; I probably owed Cullen an apology for that. “I’m sorry,” I said, deciding to begin with Blackwall. “I… I wasn’t feeling well, after Redcliffe, and you shouldn’t have had to see me like that. And I probably shouldn’t have disappeared.”

“You owe me no apologies, my lady.” Blackwall rested a hand on my shoulder, his eyes surprisingly kind. “You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, and if I can help bare even a little of that weight, it is an honor.” My mind drifted back to what June had said earlier; _Let someone else carry your burdens._

I looked away, feeling confused and conflicted as I gently ran my fingers through the cat’s fur. It had settled in comfortably, and was now purring in my arms, eyes closed. “Thank you,” I managed quietly.

Blackwall’s face turned serious. “I hate to ask this,” he began, “but what are we going to do about this mess with the mages?”

While I may have been at odds with my feelings for the current situation, I knew exactly how I wanted to proceed with the rebel mages. After several hours of uninterrupted sleep, my mind was clear, though I wasn’t thrilled about proposing my plan to the advisors. I glanced up at Blackwall, hoping I looked more determined than I felt. “We’re going to stop Alexius and free the mages from Tevinter control.” 


	5. Mysteries of Wicked Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group fell silent, as if I had just insulted their most cherished ancestors. The Iron Bull stared at me for a long moment before he dramatically whispered, “You don’t know how to play Wicked Grace?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me awhile to get right, but I like how it turned out! 
> 
> Features: The Iron Bull, Krem, Sera, and Varric (and of course Cullen and June)
> 
> Ironically, this chapter doesn't feature Blackwall. 
> 
> No TW's for this chapter! Only major thing is the last section is third person from June's POV! Enjoy!

**Haven. War room.**

The advisors began to fill the war room while I waited, reminding myself to stand up straight. I tried not to fidget as Josephine entered last, closing the door behind her. 

Leliana was the first to speak, saying, “Herald, we’ve spent some time looking at all of our options, but we still can’t say for certain which is the best.”

I glanced down at the war table - at the invitation from Magister Alexius, the various maps of Redcliffe and its castle - before looking up again, staring at the advisors. “I think we should pursue the mages.” 

Immediately several voices raised in disagreement, Cullen’s the first to cut through. “We don’t have the manpower to take the castle!” he exclaimed. “Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the templars!”

“Redcliffe - and all of the Southern Mages - are in the hands of a Magister,” Cassandra countered. “This cannot be allowed to stand.”

For once, I found myself agreeing with the Seeker, but remained quiet to let everyone else speak. Josephine chimed in next, adding, “The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.”

I took a deep breath - partially to keep from yelling and partially to steady my nerves at the thought of Alexius and whatever ‘trap’ he had set for me. “We can’t waste time fighting amongst ourselves,” I implored. “We need to come to an agreement.”

“A Tevinter Magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing,” Leliana said pointedly, her eyes flickering toward the commander. 

“Not this again,” Josephine mumbled, staring down at her quill and paper, a hint of frustration in her usually calm voice. 

Cullen returned Leliana’s steely stare as he snapped, “Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden! It has repelled  _ thousands _ of assaults.” He turned to me, his voice stern. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t know what’s more charming, your certainty that I’ll die, or your implication that my only role here is as a means to closing the Breach,” I snarled back, my voice ice cold. 

Cullen’s hard stare fell at my response, but before he could speak again, Leliana interrupted. “If we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep.”

“Even if we assault the keep, it would be for naught,” Josephine argued, sounding exasperated. Clearly they had already had this conversation before without me, probably more than once. “An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s Army would provoke a war! Our hands are tied.”

It was Cassandra who spoke up again, attempting to argue for the mages. “The Magister-”

“-has outplayed us,” Cullen interrupted, f defeat in his voice. 

I placed my elbows on the war table, resting my head in my hands. “We can’t just give up.” There was frustration in my voice as I racked my brain for any other solution, any option that didn’t involve leaving the mages to suffer this fate…

“Wait.” I sat up, an idea beginning to form in my head. “What about another way in? Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something.” 

“There’s nothing I know of that would work,” Cullen said with a frown.

“I might know of one.” Leliana came over next to me, picking up a quill and beginning to make notes on the castle map. “There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family.” She looked up at us, saying, “It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“That’s too risky,” Cullen snapped. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the Magister.” I turned to face him, glaring daggers in his direction. We weren’t going to get anywhere if he shot down every damn idea. 

“That’s why we need a distraction.” Leliana finished her notes, putting down the quill and smirking. “Which I would be happy to help orchestrate. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?”

“Focus their attention on Lady Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters.” Cullen frowned, something resembling concern crossing his face as he finally considered our plan. “It’s risky… but it could work.” 

“Fortunately, you’ll have help.” A vaguely familiar voice filled the war room as the door swung open, a young man striding in.

“Dorian,” I whispered, feeling an unexpected sense of relief as he entered the room. 

An Inquisition soldier hurried in after him, looking annoyed and put out. “This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander.” 

I stifled a smile as I said, “Your timing is impeccable.”

“I enjoy making an entrance,” Dorian responded with a small bow. 

Cullen narrowed his eyes, but gave a slight nod, waving away the Inquisition soldier before turning to Dorian. “So. What is this information you have for us?”

Dorian folded his arms, leaning against the walls of the war room. “Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

Cullen still looked annoyed at the sudden intrusion, but turned back to me. He knew he was outnumbered now, and his face was serious as he said, “This plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.” He paused, looking like he was thinking hard about his wording, before continuing. “We can still go after the templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s… up to you.”

I looked between the advisors and Dorian, who gave me an encouraging nod. I braced myself against the table, steeling my nerves and looking forward. “We’re save the mages.”

#

**Haven. The Singing Maiden. The next evening.**

I sat alone in the tavern, a stein of ale in my hands and a belly full of bread. It certainly didn’t compare to Free Marcher bread, but I had found in my travels that very little did. I sighed wistfully as I sat my drink down, tearing off another small piece of the yeasted loaf in front of me as I gazed around. 

The many sounds in the tavern mingled to create a comfortable din: patrons talking, Maryden singing, Flissa flirting, the clink of tableware, the flicker of the fire next to me. I chastised myself for having not visited the Singing Maiden sooner. On top of the fact that 

Flissa insisted I drink for free (though I had made sure to drop a handful of coins easily more than the cost of my food and beverages on the counter), it was warm in here, comfortable. No one seemed to bother me despite my title. I wouldn’t have even minded a bit of company, if I had known who to ask… 

As if reading my mind, I heard a cheerful voice and the jingle of a bell as the tavern door opened, June Delafose sweeping in. She spotted me almost immediately, calling, “Lady Trevelyan! May I join you?”

It was hard not to smile in her presence, and I gestured to one of the open seats beside me. “Of course, Lady Delafose.” I hadn’t seen her since my visit to the infirmary the previous day, but that already felt like a lifetime ago. “How are you settling into Haven?”

“Oh, just fine!” she said as she removed her gloves and cloak, her curly hair secured into a messy low bun. “Everyone has been wonderfully accommodating. It’s so exciting to see the Inquisition beginning to shape up.” Someone came by, taking her order, before she focused her sharp blue eyes on me. “What about you?”

“Me?” I sat my drink down, dabbing at my mouth with a cloth. “I’m not sure what you mean…” 

“I was just wondering how you’re settling in as well.” She paused as the barmaid returned with a hot cup of tea and a side of honey, before continuing on. “This is quite a bit of responsibility for anyone to handle.”

I narrowed my eyes a bit, tightening my grasp on the cup in my hands. “Yes, it is. But I’m handling it. I don’t exactly have a choice.” My voice was strained, sharper than intended. 

June somehow remained unfazed, a smile flitting across her face. “And you’re handling it quite well. This certainly isn’t meant to judge you, it was merely an inquiry.” 

Slowly, I felt the tension begin to relax from my shoulders that had suddenly built up. I wasn’t sure why her question had caused me to react that way, but my momentary flare of irritation was now replaced with embarrassment. I looked down at the table, not sure what else to say. Instinctively, I reached up, fidgeting with the locket on my necklace. I caught June’s gaze, but she wasn’t looking at my face. She was looking at the necklace with curiosity, and I felt the sudden urge to tuck the charm into my shirt. 

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly as the door swung open and a loud, jovial group bustled in, consisting of the Iron Bull, his second in command Krem, Varric, and Sera, our newest member of the Inquisition. I polished off my drink, starting to wrap my scarf around my neck as I said, “This is probably my cue to leave…” 

“Nonsense!” June said. “The night is young yet.” And to my horror, she turned to the group and called, “Friends!”

Varric looked over first, his face brightening when he saw us. He said something to Krem before walking over to us, calling, “Blossom! Fancy seeing you here!” 

“Yes… fancy…” I said, shooting an irritated look at June who simply gave me an unflappable smile. 

“June Delafose, formerly of the Templar order,” she said, extending her hand to Varric. I felt a twinge of jealousy at how easily she fit in, how simple it seemed for her to charm the people around her. 

Varric plopped down next to me, the rest of his group joining after placing their orders and trapping me in. I bit back a grimace at being crowded, though my discomfort seemed to be mostly overlooked as Varric said, “So, would you ladies like to join us for a game of Wicked Grace?”

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” June chimed, clapping her hands together and turning her bright smile toward me. 

“As much as I’d love to join, I should probably retire for the night,” I said, pushing my chair back and starting to stand in the hopes I might be able to wedge free. “Besides, I don’t even know how to play Wicked Grace.”

The group fell silent, as if I had just insulted their most cherished ancestors. The Iron Bull stared at me for a long moment before he dramatically whispered, “You don’t know how to play Wicked Grace?”

“I… don’t?” It felt like more of a question as my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “We didn’t exactly get a lot of chances to play cards in the Circle.”

June turned to look at me, and for a moment her maddening cheerfulness faded to an expression I couldn’t quite read. Before I could linger on her face, Sera nearly shouted, “Then sit your arse down so we can teach you!”

“She’s right, we can’t let it get out that the Herald of Andraste doesn’t know how to play Wicked Grace, eh, Boss?” Krem quipped. 

I glanced between the group, Varric giving me a hopeful look, before I sighed in defeat, sliding back into my seat and taking my scarf back off. “Fine,” I relented, “but I’m going to need another drink for this.”

“I got it,” the Iron Bull said, standing up as Varric pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket. “Flissa and I have some unfinished business to attend to…”

“Keep it in your pants, Boss,” Krem groaned as a bar maiden stopped by with their first round of drinks. 

I watched the banter move through the group as Varric dealt the cards, resting my head on my hand and allowing a small smile to form on my lips. Admittedly, this was nicer than going back to my cabin alone. I turned my attention to Sera, who was attempting to explain the rules to me. “Right, so one of the winning hands is four Knights - you could have Roses, Ages, Sacrifice, and Wisdom, or two other Knights-”

“Wait, knights?” I blinked in confusion, glancing down at the jumble of cards in front of me. 

“Knights! It’s one of the suits, yeah?”

“...suits?”

“There’s four suits,” Varric chimed in. “Angels, Knights, Serpents, and Songs.”

I picked up my cards, staring at the backs of them. This was completely foreign to me. “And which one is which?”

Varric and Sera exchanged glances, Sera letting out a groan of impatience, though Varric began to laugh cheerfully. “Oh, we're in for a hilarious evening, Blossom.”

#

**Haven. Training Grounds. The next evening.**

**_June Delafose_ **

June flounced toward Cullen, calling out to him as she approached. He greeted her with a smile, wrapping an arm around her as she threw both arms around him. “You’re out here late,” she chimed, pulling away from him. “Isn’t there a meeting with the advisors starting soon?”

“Yes,” he said, folding his arms and staring out at the mostly empty training grounds. There were a few errant soldiers practicing their combat skills, but with the sun setting, most had retreated within the walls of Haven. “I wanted to get some air before being cooped up in the Chantry for the next few hours.” 

She gave an understanding nod, resting her hand on Cullen’s arm. He softened against her touch, smiling down at her. “So. You and Lady Trevelyan were out rather late last night at the Singing Maiden.” 

June scoffed, letting her arm fall to her side as she folded her arms as well, leaning back against one of the sparring dummies and staring out at the field with Cullen. “We were,” she conceded. “But I’m certainly not here to spill all of the details with you.”

“I’m not asking you for every detail-”

“Wonderful, because you’re not going to get them,” she chided gently, unable to keep from smiling at his disappointed expression. “Cullen, I didn’t come here to spy on the Herald of Andraste for you. I came here to help with the Inquisition by offering my healing skills and my combat skills. If those happen to overlap into a friendship with her, so be it.” 

He sighed, lowering his head in frustration. “What am I doing wrong, then? Every time I try to reach out to her, she finds another reason to oppose me. I don’t… I certainly don’t want to push, or pry. But she shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

June thought back to their evening at the tavern, learning how to play Wicked Grace. She had been shocked to learn that Gryffin hadn’t even been allowed to play cards at Ostwick Circle. Montsimmard had been so vastly different; some of her fondest memories were of sitting by the fireside after dinner, playing Diamondback or Wicked Grace with some of the mages. She also remembered the necklace Gryffin had been wearing; if her suspicions were correct, there was much more to the young woman than most everyone in the Inquisition likely realized. It was becoming easier to see why the mage was so guarded around them. She looked up at Cullen with a sad smile and a shrug. “She needs time,” she said softly, slipping her fingers into Cullen’s. “There’s much you’ve yet to learn about her.”

“Let me guess. You’re not going to tell me?”

She chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze. “I don’t know much more than you,” she promised.

Cullen let their hands swing lightly between them, thinking about what she’d said. “Can you at least tell me if this is a lost cause? Should I stop pursuing this?”

June lifted her free hand to Cullen’s cheek, offering him her most reassuring smile. “Don’t give up,” she said firmly. “She needs friends, people around her. Just… be patient.”

Cullen leaned into her hand for just a moment, before pulling away with a heavy sigh. “Thank you, June.” His voice was filled with gratitude as he turned toward Haven. 

“Are you ready for this meeting?”

“Several hours in a small, crowded war room? Of course, my favorite thing in Thedas,” he quipped, winking at her before he strode off toward the gates. 

June watched him leave, a smirk tugging at her lips as she took a moment to enjoy the view before turning to the weapons racks, drawing a wooden sword and shield to get some practice in before the sun set. 


End file.
